Rosemarie Potter: The Hogwarts Years
by dianaemrys15
Summary: Rosemarie Potter is one of the Children-Who-Lived. See through her eyes as she goes through her years at Hogwarts and meets Damon Black. Watch as her and Damon go from being friends to boyfriend and girlfriend. See what Hogwarts has in store for her as she and her twin, Harry Potter start their journey ... that is if she survives. OC/OC Rated M for later chapters.
1. Character Information

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosophers stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism.**

Name: Rosemarie Lillian Potter

Personality: Shy, Nice to everyone unless betrayed or hurt or had a bad first impression, protective, compassionate, open minded, intelligent, can be judgmental at times, can be fiery and have a temper, Bubbly

Appearance: Long Blonde hair, Green eyes, pale creamy skin, curves in all the right places, heart shaped face, white teeth, nice smile, lightning bolt scar on right wrist and light pink pouty lips.

Portrayed by: Addy miller- ages 11-12 Sasha Pieterse- Ages 13-14 Candice Swanepoel Age 15 on.

Cultural Background: British, Italian, Irish, French and Scottish

Species: Pure-Blooded Witch

Family: Evanna Blackburn (Biological Mother, Deceased), Lillian Potter nee Evans (Adoptive Mother, Deceased), James Potter (Father, Deceased), Petunia Dursley nee Evans (Adoptive Aunt, Alive), Dudley Dursley (Adoptive Cousin, Alive), Vernon Dursley (Adoptive Uncle, Alive), Harry Potter (Half-Brother, Alive)

Friends/Relationships: Hermione Granger (Best Friend), Ron Weasley (Friend), Draco Malfoy (Friend), Daphne Greengrass (Best Friend), Luna Lovegood (Best Friend), Fred Weasley (Friend), George Weasley (Friend), Tracey Davis (Best Friend), Blaise Zabini (Friend), Susan Bones (Friend), Hannah Abbot (Friend), Neville Longbottom (Friend), Angelina Johnson (Friend), Alicia Spinnet (Friend), Oliver Wood (Friend), Katie Bell (Friend), Nymphadora Tonks (Friend), Cedric Diggory (Friend), Michael Corner (Friend), Padama Patil (Best Friend), Sirius Black (Godfather), Remus Lupin (Honorary Godfather), Damon Black (Future Boyfriend/Husband)

Nicknames: Rose, Rosie, Rosie-Posie, Rosebud, Lily, Lillian, Potter, Pretty Girl, Blondie, Princess, Smarty Pants, Girl-who-lived, the chosen one, mary, marie, rie, mar, Cutie, Cutie pie, Cupcake, Baby, Sweetie, Babe, Love, Darling, Pretty Potter, Beauty, Beautiful, Doe Eyes, Emerald, Flower

Languages known: French, English, Gaelic, German, Italian, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Arabic, Irish, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Welsh, Bulgarian

Name: Damon Orion Black

Personality: Calm, Arrogant, Cocky, Bad-ass, closed-off, can be standoffish, temper, can seem untouchable or emotionless.

Appearance: Smooth Pale skin, Grey Eyes, Muscular Build, Six pack, 6 foot 3, high cheekbones, aristocratic features, nice smile, dark black hair.

Portrayed by: Josh Feldman – ages 11-12 Logan Lerman – ages 13-14 Ian Somerhalder – Ages 15 on

Cultural Background: British, French and German

Species: Pure-Blooded Wizard

Family: Regulas Black (Father, Deceased), Alina Black nee Greengrass (Mother, Deceased), Cygnus Greengrass (Uncle, Alive), Ariana Greengrass nee Rivera (Aunt, Alive), Daphne Greengrass (Cousin, Alive), Astoria Greengrass (Cousin, Alive), Narcissa Malfoy (Aunt, Alive), Luscious Malfoy (Uncle, Alive), Draco Malfoy (Cousin, Alive), Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black (Aunt, Alive), Ruldolpus Lestrange (Uncle, Alive), Andromeda Tonks (Aunt, Alive), Nymphadora Tonks (Cousin, Alive), Theodore Tonks (Uncle, Alive), Sirius Black (Uncle, Alive).

Friends/Relationships: Blaise Zabini (Best Friend), Draco Malfoy (Best Friend), Daphne Greengrass (Best Friend), Tracey Davis (Friend), Rosemarie Potter (Future Girlfriend/ Wife)

Nicknames: Day, Black, D, Blackbird, Babe, Love, Baby, Orion, Ori, Damy

Languages known: French, English, Gaelic, German, Italian, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Arabic, Irish, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Welsh, Bulgarian

Name: Blaise Zabini

Portrayed by: Louis Cordice

Name: Draco Malfoy

Portrayed By: Tom Felton

Name: Harry Potter

Portrayed By: Daniel Radcliff

Name: Hermione Granger

Portrayed By: Emma Watson

Name: Ron Weasley

Portrayed By: Rupert Grint

Name: Luna Lovegood

Portrayed By: Evanna Lynch

Name: Daphne Greengrass

Portrayed By: Kerti Pahk

Name: Astoria Greengrass

Portrayed By: Cora Keegan

Name: Tracey Davis

Portrayed By: Leighton Meester


	2. Year 1: The Children Who Lived

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism.**

_Chapter 1: The Children Who Lived_

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunning's, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son and daughter, too, but they had never even seen them. Those children were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind.

As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it.

The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunning's parking lot, his mind back on drills. Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry and their daughter, Rosemarie" Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry and a daughter called Rosemarie. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry and his niece was called Rosemarie. He'd never even seen the boy or girl. It might have been Harvey and Riley. Or Harold and Rayna. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby's stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er – Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. "No," she said sharply. "Why?" "Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..." "So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son and daughter –they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. "What are their names again? Howard and Rae, isn't it?" "Harry and Rosemarie. Nasty, common names, if you ask me." "Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursley's got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were  
involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn't affect them... How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." "You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?" "A what?" "A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of" "No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -" "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.

"It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name. "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring."But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too – well – noble to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead. "Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped."Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters son and daughter, Harry and Rosemarie. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy and girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Rosemarie Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.  
Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's – it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy and girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Rosemarie survive?" "We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because  
he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" "I've come to bring Harry and Rosemarie to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now." "You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.

"Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Rosemarie Potter come and live here!" "It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when their older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall."Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry and Rosemarie Potter day in the future – there will be books written about Harry and Rosemarie – every child in our world will know their names!" "Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?" Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how are they getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Rosemarie underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them." "You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of  
them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir." "No problems, were there?" "No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. In the other bundle there was a baby girl with blonde hair sleeping away. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. The girl's right hand fell out of the blankets revealing a similar lightning bolt scar on her wrist.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "They'll have that scar forever." "Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give them here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry and Rosemarie in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's' house. "Could I – could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss and then did the same to Rosemarie. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!" "S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry and Rosemarie off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry and Rosemarie gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the two little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." "Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the two bundles of blankets on the step of number four. "Good luck, Harry and Rosemarie," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets and took hold of his sister's hand without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and they slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were  
famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley... They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Rosemarie Potter – the children who lived!"

Rosemarie's Eye Color www . personal .psu .edu/afr3/blogs/SIOW/2011/10/rare-eye-colors


	3. Year 1: The Vanishing Glass

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism.**

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass_

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew and niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy and girl lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry and Rosemarie Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. "Up! Get up! Now!" I woke with a start. Harry stirring beside me. Our aunt rapped on the door again. "Up!" she screeched. I heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. I rolled onto my back and tried to remember the dream I had been having. It had been a good one. There was a red haired women and a black haired man. Harry was there. I was being held by the black haired man and Harry was being held by the red haired women. I had been so happy. I remember them telling harry and I that they loved us. It felt so real.

Our aunt was back outside the door. "Are you up yet?" she demanded. "Nearly," said Harry. "Yes, Auntie," I said sitting up beside Harry. "Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday." Harry and I groaned. "What did you say?" our aunt snapped through the door. "Nothing, nothing..." Harry mumbled. "Nothing, Aunt Petunia," I said shooting Harry a look.

I got dressed in a cute sundress that a lady down the way had given me. I looked for a pair of shoes, making sure there were no spiders on them. I was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where Harry and I slept.

Once I was finished I went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to me and Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley never punched me as I was a girl but he chased after Harry all the time.

Although he would never punch me because I have taken free martial arts for the past five years. I hate my family except for Harry so I try to be out of the house as much as possible. If I am not at dojo training I am normally in the library. I have a photographic memory, so I remember everything I read. I like to read books about medicine, History, Dance, plants, herbs and animals. I know 15 languages from reading their dictionaries and from teachers and classmates. I also taught myself to dance. I am normally very busy so it is weird to have a free day like today.

I had always been petite for my age. I was short, I had long blonde hair, pale creamy skin, heart shaped face, white teeth, a cup breasts, green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on my right wrist. I wasn't vain but I thought I was pretty. Harry looked nothing like me; he had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He wore round glasses held together with scotch tape. The only thing we share is our green eyes, though I had a different shade of green in my eyes.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry and I were turning over the bacon. "Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. I was lucky to escape that. My hair fell in neat waves down my back unlike Harry's who's hair grew all over the place.

Harry and I were frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – I always thought that he looked more like a baby whale. Harry put the plates of egg on the table while I put the bacon, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year." "Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy." "All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry and I, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down our bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right" Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..." God he's so dumb, he can't even count. "Fatuus," I mumbled under my breath in Latin (Idiot).  
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia. Thankfully she didn't hear me. "Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then." Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair. Ugh, they are such good parents, not. Dudley is so spoiled, sometimes I wish that I could run away, but I would never do that as long as I have Harry.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while me, Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in mine and Harry's direction. Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but I just sat there with a bored look on my face. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg and I was normally training or at the library. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned. I only went there once and it wasn't that bad. I have to find her and wish her a quick recovery; I hope she gets better soon.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at us as though we'd planned this. "We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested."Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy and girl." The Dursleys often spoke about us like this, as though we weren't there – or rather, as though we were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. "What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?" "On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia. "You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer and I could explore the attic which Aunt Petunia forbids us to go into).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled. "We won't blow up the house," said Harry. This time at least. Maybe I would just annoy them instead. "I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave them in the car..." yeah and we would suffocate to death or get heat stroke or dehydration. "That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone..." Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying – it had been years since he'd really cried – but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. "Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him. "I... don't... want... them... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot Harry and me a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang – "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck and me who'd rather be at home looking through the attic, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in their life. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with us, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken me and Harry aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to mine and Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy, girl – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas." Like I'm going to let that happen. At least I hope nothing will go wrong. If it does I will just have to stay out more and earn some more money to put in my bank account."I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…" "Yeah, me neither. We will be on our best behavior" But Uncle Vernon didn't believe us. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and I and it was just no good telling the Dursleys we didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia had wanted to give me a haircut that I didn't want and found that she couldn't cut through my hair. Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force me into a revolting old sweater of hers (Pink with green stars) – The harder she tried to pull it over my head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit me. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to my great relief, I wasn't punished. On the other hand, I had gotten into trouble when I had a deep cut on my leg and it had instantly healed in front of their eyes. It was just like magic. They didn't like that but all of my injuries seemed to heal like that.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, our cupboard, the library, the dojo or Mrs. Figg's. While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, Rose, the council, Harry, Rose, the bank, Harry and Rose were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them. I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying." Idiot. Uncle Vernon hates anything abnormal and you are just fueling his anger. I shot Harry a look. Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" Dudley and Piers sniggered. "I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

He shouldn't have said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was talking them about anything, acting in a way they shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think we might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursley's bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Rose what they wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought me and Harry a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, I thought, licking it as we watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond and I think it was skinner than Dudley.

Me and Harry had the best morning we'd had in a long time. We were careful to walk a little ways apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. We ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and I were allowed to finish the first, but I gave most of it to harry as I wasn't hungry and I didn't like the taste of it. I knew that it felt too good to last. I had a bad feeling something unusual was about to happen to me and Harry.

After lunch we went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can – but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. It looked un-restful somehow, like it was having a bad dream.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. He looked like an idiot. The snake was sleeping, just leave it alone. I glared at Uncle Vernon and Dudley. "This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry and I moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up and Harry; at least I got to visit the rest of the house and the neighborhood.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with mine and Harry's. It winked. Harry and I stared. Then we looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. We looked back at the snake and winked, too. This shouldn't be possible, snakes don't have eyelids.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave me and Harry a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time." "I know," Harry murmured through the glass. "I hear you," I said quietly, though I wasn't sure the snake could hear me. "It must be really annoying." said Harry. "Also really boring." I said. The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry and I peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?" The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry and I read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see – so you've never been to Brazil?" "No, smart-ass he's been there since he was born," I hit him on the arm, "Of course he hasn't been there."

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. I had to hold back a giggle at him waddling. "Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs which caused him to bump into me. Caught by surprise, Harry and I fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry and I sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. As the snake slid swiftly past us, I could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo, amiga." The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?" I glanced at the tank and all of a sudden the glass was back. I stood up stunned.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as I had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for me and Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry and Rose were talking to it, weren't you, Harry, Rose?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go – cupboard – stay – no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry and I lay in our dark cupboard much later, wishing we had a watch. I didn't know what time it was and I couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, me and Harry couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

Harry and I had lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as we could remember, ever since we'd been babies and our parents had died in that car crash. I couldn't remember being in the car when our parents died. Sometimes, when I strained my memory during long hours in the cupboard, I came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on my right wrist. This, I supposed, was the crash, though I couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. I could barely remember my parents. I remember my mom singing me and Harry a lullaby, rocking us slowly. I remember my dad holding me, kissing my forehead. Our aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course I was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When I had been younger, me and Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take us away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were our only family. Yet sometimes i thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know us. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to us once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry and I furiously if we knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed us out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at us once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken our hands in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second me and Harry tried to get a closer look.

At school, we had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses and his sister Rosemarie Potter, with her shy personality and intelligent mind, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

**Rose Outfit 1 - www. polyvore . com. /cgi/set?id=83825046**


	4. Year 1: The Letters From No One

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism. I also changed it so Rose is only Harry's half-sister but you will find out more later. **

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter 3: The Letters From No One_

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned me and Harry our longest-ever punishment. By the time we were allowed out of our cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

I was glad school was over as it gave me more free time. Unfortunately, I couldn't always escape Dudley's gang of stupid. There was: Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon, who were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. They were annoying, rude, stupid and gross. They also helped play Dudley's favorite game; Harry hunting, which was another reason why I hated them. No one was allowed to hurt my brother.

That was why I spent as much time as possible out of the house, training in the dojo, reading in the library and doing jobs to earn some money for school. When September came I would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in my life, I wouldn't be with Dudley or Harry. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. I was going to a girl's only school on scholarship.

"Stultus mutum, pinguius, turpis" I muttered in Latin passing Dudley (Stupid, Dumb, Fatty, Ugly). "What did you say" he demanded dumbly. "Oh nothing, just expressing how jealous I can't go to a prestigious school like Smeltings!" "You better have said that" he said glancing stupidly at me. I walked away before I said anything else.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and me at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry and I watch television and gave us a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years. I didn't like it very much so when she wasn't looking I gave it to Harry; it was a nice gesture though.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. Though I don't know how.

As I looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly "that it was the proudest moment of his life." Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said "she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up." I didn't trust himself to speak. I was trying not to laugh and comment on how stupid he looked. I'm normally not this mean but there is something about the Dursleys that bring out my bad side. Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh; I have to admit our cousin does look ridicules.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when I went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. I went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What is this?" I asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if I dared to ask a question. "Harry's school uniform," she said, "Yours is next." "You don't have to bother doing that, the school is supplying the uniforms" I lied. Really, I was going to buy my own with the money I saved, but I didn't want her to know about that. Harry entered at that moment and saw his 'school uniform.'

I was trying not to imagine how horrible this will be for him next year. He will probably look like he is homeless and drowning in bits of elephant skin. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. I heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper."Make Harry or Rose get it." "Get the mail, Harry, Rose." "Make Dudley get it." "Yeah he can get it" "Poke them with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry and I dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, a letter for Harry and – a letter for me.

I picked it up and stared at it, my heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in my whole life, had written to me. Who would? I had no friends, no other relatives – I don't check out books from the library, so I don't get letters asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Ms. R. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, my hand trembling, I saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. "Hurry up, boy, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen

"What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. I put the letter into my pocket while Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. "Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. –." "Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!" I internally rolled my eyes. Harry should have put his letter away; sometimes he can be a little dumb, though I guess he was just excited. Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon. "That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back. "Harry" I hissed under my breath and shot him a look that said "leave it."

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. Ew. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!" They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, me and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. "I want to read that letter," he said loudly. "I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine." "Get out, all of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. "Wait if he received one, she should have too" said Aunt Petunia staring at me. "Give me your letter" Uncle Vernon demanded furiously. I gave it to him reluctantly as I didn't want to push him when he is in a mood like this.

Harry didn't move. "I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted. "Let me see it!" demanded Dudley. "Please, can I have my letter back?"

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon and he took Harry, Dudley and I by the scruffs of our necks and threw us into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. I just stared angrily at the door.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry and me in our cupboard. "Where's our letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to us?" "No one. It was addressed to you two by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned them." "It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily. "It had our cupboard on it." I said angrily. "SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er – yes, Harry, Rose – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if Harry you moved into Dudley's second bedroom and Rose you move into the attic, after cleaning it out of course. "Why?" said Harry. I elbowed Harry, I wanted to explore the 'forbidden attic' and get out of this cupboard. "Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took me one trip to get all my stuff to the attic. It was mostly empty except for a few boxes. I grabbed the cleaning supplies and cleaned everything. I was clearing the boxes out when something caught my eye. Lily Evans. It was my mom's name printed on a box. I quickly hid the box under my makeshift bed of blankets and sat down. I would have given everything yesterday to get in the attic but now I'd rather be in the cupboard with Harry reading our letters.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. I was thinking about this time yesterday and wishing that I had grabbed both letters and hid them. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry and I, made Dudley go and get it. I heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another Two!'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive and 'Ms. R. Potter, The Attic, 4 Privet Drive'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry and I right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. I just stood at the side, waiting. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry and my letters clutched in his hand. "Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry and I. "Dudley – go – just go."

I walked round and round my new room. Someone knew I had moved out of my cupboard and they seemed to know I hadn't received my first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time I'd make sure they didn't fail. I had a plan. Harry woke me up at 6.00 am and we tip-toed quietly down the stairs. We were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. My heart hammered as we crept across the dark hall toward the front door – I leapt into the air; we'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to my amusement and horror I realized that the big, squashy something had been our uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry and I didn't do exactly what we'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry and me for about half an hour and then told us to go and make a cup of tea. We shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. I could see six letters addressed in green ink.

"I want –" Harry began, "Wait—" but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before our eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. "See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up." "I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon." "Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry and me. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry and Twenty-four letters to me found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the four dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor."Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and me in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. "No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, is he dumb or what, "no damn letters today –" Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry and I leapt into the air trying to catch one in excitement."Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and me by my arm and threw us into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. "That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; Uncle Vernon had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

We drove. And we drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where we were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

We didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harry and I shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry and I stayed awake. "Who do you think is writing to us?" I asked while leaning on his shoulder. "I don't know Rosie" he whispered while wrapping his arm around me. We sat on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...

We ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. We had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. "'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter or Ms. R. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk." She held up 2 letters so they could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Ms. R. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry and I made a grab for the letters but Uncle Vernon knocked our hands out of the way. The woman stared. "I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room. "Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove us into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off we went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. They only just realized that. They are unbelievable. At least I dressed warmly. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled. "It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "Monday. This reminded me of something. If it was Monday – and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television – then tomorrow, Tuesday, was mine and Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, our birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given me and Harry a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's old socks. Well, the neighbors normally donated clothes, but I wanted to have my own clothes. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought. "Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!" It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain; there was no television in there. "Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them. I had a feeling about this trip. I couldn't tell whether it was good or bad, yet. "I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!" It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up."Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully. Oh, shut up. I wanted to throttle him, but he was family, unfortunately. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. I privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer me up at all. In fact it probably made this night worse.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry and I were left to find the softest bit of floor we could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. "oh, wait" I whispered to Harry. I looked in my bag and pulled out a comfy, warm blanket. "I brought this, I completely forgot," I said, "we can curl up under this."

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry and I couldn't sleep. We shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, our stomachs rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry and I we'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. I lay and watched our birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. I heard something creak outside. I hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although I might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that I'd be able to steal one somehow. Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and I'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine - maybe I'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him – three... two... one... BOOM. The whole shack shivered and Harry and I sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

**Rose's Outfit at the shack: www . polyvore rose / set? Id=83906798**


	5. Year 1: The Keeper of the Keys

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism. I also changed it so Rose is only Harry's half-sister but you will find out more later. **

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter 4: The Keeper of the Keys_

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly, like always. There was a crash behind us and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now I knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. Why would he bring a gun with him I don't know, though I am sort of thankful for it now. "Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed!" Yeah like Uncle Vernon will have the guts. There was a pause. Then – SMASH! I jumped and went beside Harry who stepped in front of me.

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at us.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. "Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger. I cracked a smile from behind Harry. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. "An' here's Harry and Rosemarie!" said the giant. I peaked my head out from behind Harry and looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a warm smile.

"Las' time I saw you two, you were only babies," said the giant. "Harry, Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes, and Rose you look a lot like yer mom with yer dad's pale skin." Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. I let out a quiet giggle at Uncle Vernon's face. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway – Harry, Rosemarie," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh two here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry and I opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry and Rose written on it in green icing. "I couldn't fit yer whole name on it Rosemarie" "That's okay, I prefer Rose anyway, so you can call me that, it's less formal" I replied

Harry and I looked up at the giant. Harry and I meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to our mouths, and what Harry said instead was, "Who are you?" The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm and then shook mine. "What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; I couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and I felt the warmth wash over me as though I'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply,

"Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley." The giant chuckled darkly. "Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." I like this giant; he insults the Dursleys and likes Harry and me over them.

He passed the sausages to Harry and me. I was so hungry I had never tasted anything so wonderful, but I still couldn't take my eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are." The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course. "Er – no," said Harry. "I've never heard of it" I said. Hagrid looked shocked. "Sorry," Harry and I said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them who should be sorry! I knew yeh two weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?" "What did they learn?" I asked. "All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy and girl – this boy and girl! – knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"

I thought this was going a bit far. I had been to school, after all, and my marks were high. I also read a lot and had a photographic memory. "I know some things," I said. "I can, do Math, science and other stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world." "What world?" "Do they belong to a cult or something?" I asked. Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and I. "But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're both famous." "What? Our – our mom and dad weren't famous, were they?" "Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry and I with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally. Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the boy and girl anything!" A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?" "Kept what from us?" said Harry eagerly. "What are you not telling us?" I asked. "STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror. "Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard and Rose – yer a witch." There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard. "—a what?" gasped Harry. "That's not a very nice thing to say" I exclaimed frowning at him. "A wizard and witch, o' course," said Hagrid ignoring my comment, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' thumpin' good'uns, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letters."

Harry and I stretched out our hands at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms. R. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. I pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside my head like fireworks and I couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes of silence Harry stammered, "What does it mean, they await our owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl – a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry and I could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Rose their letters.

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry's mouth was open so I elbowed him gently and he closed his mouth quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. "They're not going," he said. Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said. "A what?" said Harry, interested. "Is that a stereotype?" I asked.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's both of your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." "Oh" I said quietly."We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard and witch indeed!" "You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a – a wizard?" "And, that I am a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you two not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years."Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you both!"

Harry and I had gone very white. As soon as we found our voice Harry said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!" "How could you?" I said horrified. "CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Rose Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows your names!" "But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently. "Please tell us Hagrid" I said. The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, Rose, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone has gotta – yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, its best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh – mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with – with a person called – but its incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows –" "Who?" asked Harry. "What's this person's name?"

"Well – I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does." "Why not?" questioned Harry. "Is it taboo?" "Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, Rose, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out. "Could you write it down?" Harry suggested. "Nah -can't spell it. All right – Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too – some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry, Rose. Didn't know who ter trust didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him – an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You and Rose were just a year old. He came ter yer house an' – an' –" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad – knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find – anyway..." "You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then – an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you both, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead and on yer wrist? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh – took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even – but it didn't work on you both, an' that's why yer both famous, Harry, Rose. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you two, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age – the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts – an' you both were only babies, an' you both lived."

My eyes started to water throughout Hagrid's story. A few tears slipped down my face as Hagrid's story came to a close, I saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than I had ever remembered it before – and I remembered something else, for the first time in my life: a high, cold, cruel laugh and a single haunting scream.

Hagrid was watching them sadly. "Took yeh both from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..." "Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry and I jumped; we had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy, girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you two, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end –" I was shaking with anger. But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you – one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent. "That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry and I, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. "But what happened to Vol—, sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?" Harry asked. "Did he just disappear?" "Good questions, Harry, Rose. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you two. Makes yeh both even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful – why'd he go? "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don't reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you both finished him, Harry, Rose. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on – I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin' about you two stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry and me with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but instead of feeling pleased and proud, I felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch. Me? How could I possibly be? I'd spent my life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon with only Harry as company; if I was really a witch, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock me in my cupboard or when they hurt me and Harry? If me and Harry once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick Harry and I around like a football?

"Hagrid," Harry said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard." He was thinking the same thoughts as me. "I don't think I can be a witch, either." To my surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard or a witch, eh? Never made things happen when you both were scared or angry?"

I looked into the blazing fire. Now I came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made my aunt and uncle furious with me had happened when I, had been upset or angry... pushed by a girl in my class and got cut, it magically healed... not wanting a haircut, the scissors wouldn't cut through my hair... and the very last time not wanting the Zoo Director to worry, I had made the glass reappear.

Harry and I looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at us. "See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard and Rose Potter, not a witch—you wait, you'll both be right famous at Hogwarts." But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it, just as she's going to Saint Angelica's. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and –"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son and daughter from goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names been down ever since they were born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon. But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!" He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley – there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on us, I saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. I burst out laughing. Now he really looks like a pig. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do." He cast a sideways look at Harry and me under his bushy eyebrows. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm – er – not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff – one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job. "Oh, Hagrid, that was great" I said. He winked at me.

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry. I looked at Hagrid interested in hearing this story. "Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." "Why were you expelled?" "Harry" I hissed under my breath, "Leave it."

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that." He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and I. "You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

**Rose's Outfit at the shack: www . polyvore rose / set? Id=83906798**


	6. Year 1: Diagon Alley

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism. I also changed it so Rose is only Harry's half-sister but you will find out more later. **

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter 5: Diagon Alley_

I woke early the next morning. Although I could tell it was daylight, I kept my eyes shut tight. "It was a dream, a wonderful dream," I told myself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell that Harry and I were going to a school for wizards and witches. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in mine and Harry's cupboard." There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. And there's Aunt Petunia banging on the door, I thought, my heart sinking. But I still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream. I only wish it was real. Tap. Tap. Tap. "All right," I mumbled, "I'm getting up." I groaned and sat up with Harry getting up beside me.

I sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off me. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak. I scrambled to my feet, so happy I felt as though a large balloon of happiness was swelling inside me. I went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat. "Don't do that." Harry said from beside me. "Stop that." I cried out. I tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at me and carried on savaging the coat. "Hagrid!" I said loudly. "There's an owl –" "Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. "What?" I asked.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry and I pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins each. "Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily. "Knuts?" questioned Harry. "The little bronze ones." "That must be their currency" I whispered to Harry as he counted out five little bronze coins. The owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window. Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Harry, Rose, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school." I was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. They were really cool. I wonder if they were made from real silver, gold and bronze. "Um – Hagrid?" asked Harry, interrupting my thoughts. "Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots. "We haven't got any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for us to go and learn magic." I hadn't even thought of that. I started to worry about this; we couldn't afford to go to Hogwarts.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh both anything?" "But if their house was destroyed –" started Harry. I doubted they would put their money in their house. They probably had a safe or something. "They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither." "Wizards have banks?" asked Harry. "How many banks do they have?" I asked. "Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins." Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. I gasped in surprise. "Goblins?" asked Harry. "Are they just like in the books?" I asked.

"Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, Rose. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you two, gettin' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see. "Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry and I followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. It was a pretty view. I pulled my camera out from my bag and took a picture. I always had my camera. I liked to document everything. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid. "Flew?" I asked. "Yeah – but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh." We settled down in the boat, I was still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying. All I could think of is him on a tiny broom and it breaking and him falling into the water.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and I another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?" "Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. "We'll keep your secret" I said just as eagerly. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and we sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked. "Will you disappear or something?" I asked. "Spells – enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

I sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. I had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, I'd never had so many questions in his life. "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. "There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked. "Is it like the government?" I asked.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o ' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice." "But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" "Do they make laws?" I asked. "Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." "Why?" asked Harry. "Yeah, wouldn't it be easier if everyone knew?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, Rose, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and we clambered up the stone steps onto the street. Passersbys stared a lot at Hagrid as we walked through the little town to the station. I couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry, Rose? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?" He would seem rather odd, but I found him extremely amusing and nice. "Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as we ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?" "Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon." "That would be so cool, I would name mine Blaze" I said excitedly. "You'd like one?" asked Harry incredulously. "Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go."

We had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to me so I could buy our tickets. People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. "Still got yer letters, Harry, Rose?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry and I took the parchment envelopes out of our pockets. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need." I unfolded a second piece of paper I hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM:**

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

Three (Or More) White Short sleeve Blouses

Three (Or More) White Long sleeve Blouses

Three (Or More) Pleated Grey or Black Skirts

Three (Or More) Knee high White, Black or Grey Socks

Three (Or More) Light Stockings

Three (Or More) Winter Stockings

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

**COURSE BOOKS:**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT:**

Wand

Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

Glass or Crystal phials

Telescope set

Brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry asked. Good point, I don't think you can find this in a regular mall. "Can we, Hagrid?" I asked. "If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid. I had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow. I enjoyed it. I was taking pictures and wondering around the train. I took pictures of the different occupants.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and I had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. I took loads of pictures and nearly got lost.

Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If I hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, I might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told me so far was unbelievable, I couldn't help trusting him. It was surreal but totally amazing. "This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. I still took pictures of it though.

If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, I had the most peculiar feeling that only Harry, me and Hagrid could see it. Before I could mention this, Hagrid had steered me inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. I was taking pictures rapidly. The low buzz of chatter stopped when we walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hands on Harry's and my shoulders, making our knees buckle. "Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry and me, "is this – can this be –?" The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Rose Potter... what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and me and seized our hands, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. and Ms. Potter, welcome back."

I didn't know what to say. I put my camera back in my bag. Everyone was looking at us. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry and I found ourselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. "Doris Crockford, Mr. and Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you both at last." "So proud, Mr. and Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud." "Always wanted to shake your hands – I'm all of a flutter." "Delighted, Mr. and Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle." "We've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to us once in a shop." "They remember!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? They remember me!" I think that's going a bit too far.

I just vaguely recognize him, although I wasn't really paying attention in the shop, I was reading. Harry and I shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. "Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Rose, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts." "P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry and I's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you b-both." "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" asked Harry. "Is it dangerous and exciting" I asked my eyes sparkling.

"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. "That's awesome" I exclaimed, although he didn't look as though he would be teaching defense against the dark arts, more run away from the dark arts.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and I to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Rose." Doris Crockford shook Harry and I's hand one last time, and Hagrid led us through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry and I. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you both were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'." "Is he always that nervous?" asked Harry. "Did something happen to him?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? My head was swimming. It was amazing, I wonder if there are fairies' and elves also. That would be so cool. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... two across" he muttered." "Right, stand back, Harry, Rose." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. I took out my camera and started taking pictures.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." He grinned at mine and Harry's amazement. We stepped through the archway. I looked quickly over my shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first." I wished I had about eight more eyes. I turned my head in every direction as we walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. I was snapping pictures like crazy. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. I'd rather have a cat. Several boys of about mine and Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," I heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest ever –" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments I had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. We had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as we walked up the white stone steps toward him. I snapped a few pictures and put my camera back in my bag. The goblin was about a head shorter than me. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, I noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as we walked inside. Now we were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed us through the silver doors and we were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Me, Hagrid and Harry made for the counter. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Rosemarie Potter's safe." "You have their keys, Sir?"

"I've only got one key. Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. I watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals and wondered why he only had one key if there were two of us.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order, this is Mr. Harry Potter's key and where is Ms. Rosemarie Potter's key?" the goblin asked. "I only received one key" Hagrid replied nervously. "Ah. I remember, Ms. Potter your account manager Ragnock will be right with you, go through that door and turn right. On the right side enter the first door and wait there." The goblin said. "Okay, thanks sir" I said.

"What's this?" asked Hagrid. "I don't know" I responded. "Since I don't know how much longer I'll be and I wanted to get some clothes, how bout I meet you at 3.00 pm in the wand shop." I said. "Alright, but be careful" said Hagrid. I waved to Harry and Hagrid before going through the marble hallways and entering an office.

I waited for about ten minutes before a goblin came in. he looked like any other goblin I saw. He sat down across from me. "Ms. Potter, I am your account manager. I have been your family's account manager for years. Your mother left a letter for you in my possession. Before we begin, I believe you should read it." He said. I reached for the letter with shaking hands. I grabbed the letter and carefully opened it.

_My darling daughter,_

_If you are reading this I am not with you. I have passed on. I know this will shock you, but Lily Potter is not your biological mother. I am. If you did not know this than James and Lily must have passed when you were young. I was best friends with James and Lily and when I was twenty I wanted a baby. I did not have a significant other so I asked James and Lily if it was okay if James would be the father. They agreed. I am writing this letter as I am pregnant with you. I have a feeling I won't be there to watch you grow up. It was early in my pregnancy when we found out that Lily was pregnant. It is amazing. No matter what, you will be siblings. Know that I will always love you and if I could, I would have raised you. I love you so much. Remember to always be true to yourself and never change into someone you're not. I'll love you forever,_

_ Love always, _

_Mummy (Evanna Rosalie Blackburn)_

I had tears running down my face. Harry and I are half-siblings. That was not what I was crying about though. That doesn't matter. I will always love mum and dad but I now will always love my real mummy too. I wish I could have known her. I took deep breaths and calmed myself down. "Why did you need to talk to me," I asked, "Couldn't you have just handed me the letter and my key?" "It is a little more complicated than that. As you are the last Blackburn you inherit everything. I have to give you an overview of your account." He said. "Okay, may I see the overview of my account?" I asked. "Here" he said and handed me a few pieces of paper. I grabbed them with trembling hands.

**The Blackburn Account:**

**Vault 2: 90,879,794,758 Galleons, 85,535,742,985 Sickles, 70,646,337,167 Knuts, 90,000,000,000 in Jewels and other items**

**Vault 5: 5,987,654,321 Galleons, 4,723,455,698 sickles, 3,456,122,871 Knuts, 4,000,000,000 in Jewels and other items**

**Vault 8: 2,986,455,122 Galleons, 3,454,678,123 Sickles, 1,234,763,197 Knuts, 2,000,000,000 in Jewels and other items**

**Vault 28: 999,765,345 Galleons, 454,333,879 Sickles, 667,987,280 Knuts, 990,000,000 in Jewels and other Items**

**Vault 814 (Trust Vault): 200,000 Galleons, 150,000 Sickles, 100,000 Knuts and various other items**

My jaw dropped. I didn't know it was possible to own that much money. "How is it possible to own that much money?" I asked. "The Blackburn family is very prestigious and has been around for thousands of years. Your family owns a lot of stocks and has earned very good money for thousands of years." He explained patiently. "You cannot access your vaults except for your trust vault until you reach majority at age seventeen" he said. "I would like to visit my vault now" I said. He gave me a golden key with a ruby on it. "Granlock will take you" he said as another goblin appeared. I took the key and left with Granlock. We went on a cart and descended into the dark caverns. We started to slow down. We had reached vault 814. "Lamp please" he said. I handed him the lamp. "Key please." I handed him the tiny golden and ruby key. He inserted the key in the lock and it slowly opened. I walked inside. There was heaps of money, some jewelry and a trunk with a letter on top. The letter had my name on it so I took it and slowly opened it.

_My baby girl,_

_I just want you to know that I am very proud of you and the women I am sure you are. __**I am also proud of you, Rosebud. No boys though. **__Never mind your father. In this trunk there are pictures of your biological mother as well as your dad and I. __**You can see how handsome I am now, Rosebud.**__ James, now is not the time. Anyway there is also some jewelry, some books, and some information about our family. To shrink the trunk just push the button on the top. __**Now this is your amazing father, I put in some pranking books. Shh, don't tell. I love you Rosebud and I hope you have had a happy, wonderful life and the rest of your life will be full of happy memories. Just remember no boys till you're at least 30.**__ I love you baby, you will always be my daughter even if I didn't give birth to you. Stay true to yourself and don't be afraid to love and live. I'll always love you. __**Me too, baby. Make us proud. **_

_Love always,_

_ Mum (Lily) and __**Daddy (James)**_

I was laughing and crying as I finished the letter. I pushed the button on the top and decided I would look at it later. I grabbed a pouch and filled it to the brim with money. After a short cart ride I was on my way out of Gringotts. As soon as I stepped into the bright sunshine I headed to the trunk shop.

"Excuse me?" I asked the wizard at the front desk in the trunk shop. "Yes" he replied. "I need to buy a trunk and I was wondering the various sizes you offer" I said. "Well there is standard size, which is two compartment magically enlarged. This is what most Hogwarts students get. There is a four compartment trunk. Which has 2 magically enlarged compartments, a small library and a place to put your potions. The last is a 7 compartment trunk. It has a walk in closet, a library, a potions lab, a dueling room, an magically enlarged compartment, an exercise room and an apartment." He said. I pondered the choices. I wanted it to last. "I'll take the seven compartment trunk" I said. "Very well, what type of wood?" he asked. "Ebony" I said. "Do you want to put any design on it?" he asked. "Yes, can you put the potter crest on it and my initials, R.L.P" I said. "Yes, would you like any protections?" he asked. "Yes, what kinds of protection do you have?" I asked. "Well there are standard protections; feather light charm, shrinking charm, repel dirt charm, repel water charm and a charm that makes sure it doesn't rip, tear or break. Then there is the advanced protections; a charm that will allow only you to open it, a charm that will alarm you if anyone tries to open it except you and a charm that will curse anyone who tries to open it without your permission" he said. "I would like all the protections put on please" I said. "Very well it should take about five minutes. Would you like to wait?" he asked. "Yes." I waited for five minutes and it was finished. "You push the buttons at the top for what compartment you want. You have to get your own furniture and equipment. For the color scheme just touch the wall with your want and say a color, the walls will then turn that color. The kitchen has the furniture, you will just need to get the food and dishes. The bathroom is furnished; you will just need to get the supplies. Just say shrink and it will shrink and grow for it to grow. That will be 100 galleons, 25 sickles and 14 knuts." He said. I counted out the money and gave it to him. "Shrink" I commanded and it shrunk to matchbox size. I then put it in my pocket.

I headed to the furniture store next. "How may I help you?" asked the witch at the front desk. "I would like to order a king size bed with an ebony frame, an ebony dresser, 2 ebony bed side table's, 2 black leather couches, 1 black leather chair, a cream lounge chair, a cream lounge couch, an ebony coffee table, 5 ebony kitchen chairs, an ebony desk, an black desk chair, a work table, 4 work chairs, a red bean bag chair, and an ebony cabinet." I said. "Is that all for today?" she asked. "Yes, though I was wondering if you can put shrinking charms on the furniture that will grow when I say grow." I said. "Yes, who shall I owl it to?" "Rosemarie Potter, please" I said. She gasped and looked at my covered wrist. "That will be 2000 galleons" she said. "Can you charge it to vault 814?" "Yes, of course" "Thank-you, have a good day!" I said. "You as well" she said and waved at me. I waved back and headed to Scribbulus Writing Instruments. I got Parchment, 20 books filled with parchment that will act as notebooks, 100 regular quills, 10 sparkly quills, 50 self editing quills, 10 quills that changed colour as you wrote, 10 different feathered quills, and 30 note taking quills. I also got 10 pots of black ink, 10 pots of red ink, 10 pots of ink that changes colour, 10 pots of self correcting ink, 10 pots of blue ink, 10 pots of gold ink, 5 pots of pink ink, 5 pots of green ink and 10 pots of gold ink.

I then went to Flourish and Blotts. I bought my entire school books as well as a few extra books in each subject area. I then went to the sweet shop and bought all different kinds of candy to try. Next I went to Twilfitt and Tatting's and got a whole new wardrobe. After that I headed to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The bell ringed as I stepped into the shop. "Hogwarts deary?" an older witch asked. "Yes." I said. "You can sit down there, another young boy is also here getting measured." She said. I went and sat down. "Hogwarts too?" he asked. I looked at him he had dark black hair and grey eyes. He had pale skin and a few muscles had started to develop. "Yes" I said. "I'm Damon Black" he said holding out his hand for me to shake. I shook his hand. "Rosemarie Potter" I said. The women gasped. He looked surprised for a split second before his expression closed off.

"There you are finished dear" she said to Damon. "Bye, I'll see you at Hogwarts" I said shyly. "Yes, I'll see you there, Rosie" he said throwing me a charming smile. I blushed and waved. Madam Malkin finished with my measurements and informed me she would owl them to me. I got three sets of plain work robes made of silk, four white short sleeve blouses, four white long sleeve blouses, four gray pleated skirts, four black pleated Skirts, four white knee high socks, four black knee high socks, four grey knee high Socks, four light stockings, four winter stockings, one plain black pointed hat for day wear, two pairs of protective gloves made of dragon hide and two black winter cloaks with silver fastenings.

Afterward I headed to magical menagerie. I got a little golden puppy, 2 cages for him, dog food, dog treats, a cute magical collar; that tells me where he is and has protective charms on it, a cute dog leash, a dog bed and some dog toys. I then headed to the apothecary. I got 2 sets of basic ingredients and I stocked up on any other ingredient that caught my eye. I then went to the cauldron shop and got 2 standard size 2 pewter cauldrons and 1 gold cauldron. I then headed to a shop that basically sold everything and got brass scales, a couple sets of crystal vials and a telescope. I then headed to Ollivander's to meet up with Hagrid and Harry. "Harry" I called as soon as I saw him. He was about to walk into Ollivander's. He turned around. "Rosie, how was your day?" "Great, how was yours?" I asked him and pulled him into a hug. "Amazing" he said pulling away. "Hey Hagrid" I said looking up at him. "Hey Rosie, here," I sent him a quizzical look, "It's your birthday present." He said. I unwrapped it to see a magical camera. "This is amazing, thanks" I said to Hagrid. "Don't mention it" he said. After I put my camera away we walked into the shop.

It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. I felt strangely as though I had entered a very strict library; I swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to me and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of my neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. I grabbed Harry's hand.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and I jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before us, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Hello," said Harry. "Hi" I said. "Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you both soon. Harry and Rosemarie Potter." It wasn't a question. "Harry, you have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." "Rose you have your mother's hair and eyes. It also seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. 11 inches long, unicorn hair and maple. Good for charm work as well.

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry and I. I wished I would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – It's really the wand that chooses the wizard or witch, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that we were almost nose to nose. I could see myself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead and on my right wrist with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." He shook his head and then, to mine and Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?" "It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid. "Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern. "Er – yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly. "But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply. "Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. I noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. and Ms. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" "Er – well, I'm right-handed," said Harry. "I'm ambidextrous" I said. "Mr. Potter hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. and Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard or witch's wand."

"Now Ms. Potter, hold out both your arms. He measured me from each shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round my head. I suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between my nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. "Ms. Potter, you try" he said. I waved it with my right hand and it broke a window. Mr. Ollivander took it from me.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –" Harry and I tried – but we had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. "No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out." Harry and I tried. And tried. I had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customers, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..." He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..." "Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you and your sister those scars." I swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great." Mr. Ollivander took another dusty want from the shelf. "Try this one Ms. Potter" he said. I picked up the wand and swished it. A warm and happy feeling spread through me. A rainbow of sparks shot out of the want. "Congratulations. Ms. Potter. Eleven inches, ebony and royal phoenix feather. Good for all types of magic" he said. I looked at the want it was pure black with golden runes etched on it. "What do the runes mean?" I asked. "There are runes for strength, power, healing, love, compassion, peace, concentration, intelligence, wisdom, trust, organization, patience, courage and bravery. May it serve you well" he said. He wrapped up the wand. "May I also get a wand Hollister and some wand polish?" I asked. "Yes, that will be 14 galleons" he said. I paid for mine and Harry paid 7 galleons for his and Mr. Ollivander bowed us from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as me, Harry and Hagrid made our way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry and I didn't speak at all as we walked down the road; I didn't even notice how much people were gawking at us on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap and a kitten asleep on mine. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; I only realized where we were when Hagrid tapped me on the shoulder. "Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry and me a hamburger and we sat down on plastic seats to eat them. I kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. "You all right, Harry, Rose? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

I wasn't sure how I could explain. I'd just had the best birthday of my life – and yet – I chewed my hamburger, trying to find the words. "Everyone thinks were special," Harry said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but we don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? Were famous and we can't even remember what were famous for. We don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry – I mean, the night our parents died." "It's just a lot to take in" I said. Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry, Rose. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry and I on to the train that would take us back to the Dursleys, then handed us an envelope. "Yer tickets fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Harry, Rose." The train pulled out of the station. Harry and I wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; I rose in my seat and pressed my nose against the window, but I blinked and Hagrid had gone.

**A/N Important! Please Read! Please tell me if you want Rose to be in Ravenclaw, Slytherin or Gryffindor. Thanks, Diana.**


	7. Year 1: Platform Nine And Three Quarters

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism. Please review and tell me which house you would like Rose to be in.**

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter Six: The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_

My last month with the Dursleys wasn't bad. Dudley was now so scared of Harry and I he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry and me in our cupboard, force us to do anything, or shout at us – in fact, they didn't speak to us at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry or me in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while. I told Harry about us being half-siblings but he didn't care. He still loved me just as I still loved him. I had also got a new complete muggle wardrobe, various muggle exercise machines and I set up my multi-compartment trunk. Additionally, I got some magical dummies and more books to practice dueling.

I kept to my room mostly, with my new puppy for company. I had decided to call him Paddy, a name I could vaguely remember, but had no idea where from. My school books were very interesting. I lay on my bed reading late into the night, with Paddy curled beside me sleeping. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Paddy kept on stinking up the place. Every night before I went to sleep, I ticked off another day on the piece of paper I had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first. I finally went through the box that had my adoptive mother's name on it and found tons of pictures which I shared with Harry. I also opened up the trunk mum and dad left me and found tons of pictures of both my mothers and my dad, as well as some people who I did not know. I also read about my family history and got some jewelry from both my mom's.

On the last day of August Harry and I thought we'd better speak to our aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so we went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. We cleared our throats to let them know we were there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er – Uncle Vernon?" Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening. "Er – we need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to – to go to Hogwarts." Uncle Vernon grunted again. "Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?" "Please, Uncle Vernon?" I asked. Grunt. I supposed that meant yes. "Thank you." said Harry. "Thanks, Uncle Vernon" I said. We were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke. "Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?" Harry and I didn't say anything. "Where is this school, anyway?" "I don't know," said Harry. "I think it's somewhere in Scotland" I said. I pulled the ticket Hagrid had given me out of my pocket. "We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," I read. Our aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?" "Nine and three-quarters." "Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters." "It's on our tickets." Harry said. "That means it's real" I pointed out smugly, Damon had been rubbing off on me through the multiple letters we had shared in secret this past month. "Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you both to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother." "Why are you going to London?" Harry asked. "Has it something to do with us? Are you going there to celebrate?" I asked mockingly, yeah Damon really has rubbed off on me. "Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

I woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. I got up and pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top as going in robes did not seem like a good idea, especially around Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia—I'd change on the train. I checked my Hogwarts list yet again to make sure I had everything I needed, and saw that Paddy was shut safely in his traveling cage, and then double checked my trunk and paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car while I had mine in my pocket , Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry while I sat on Harry's other side, and we had set off.

We reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. I thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face. "Well, there you are, boy, girl. Platform nine – platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all. "Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry and I turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. My mouth went rather dry. What on earth were we going to do? Harry was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. I wasn't attracting as many as I only had Paddy's cage.

I followed Harry as he stopped a passing guard, but was rather thankful he didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry and I couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though we were being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock while I stood to the side, but the guard said there wasn't one. I doubted there was going to be as the magical world was supposed to be kept secret. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. I was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, we had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and we had no idea how to do it; we were stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk we could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, a dog and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell us something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. I wondered if we should get out our wands and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten. No, that was a stupid idea. "Harry—" I started.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind us and we caught a few words of what they were saying. "—packed with Muggles, of course –" Harry and I swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of them – and they had an owl. Heart hammering, we pushed Harry's cart after them. They stopped and so did we, just near enough to hear what they were saying. "Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother. "Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go..." "You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry and I watched, careful not to blink in case we missed it – but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of them and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said. "I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?" "Sorry, George, dear." "Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone – but how had he done it? Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there – and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere. There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman. "Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. "Yes," said Harry. "The thing is – the thing is, we don't know how to –" "How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry and I nodded. "Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron." "Er – okay," said Harry. I watched as he ran and disappeared. I went next. I stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

I started to walk toward it. People jostled me on their way to platforms nine and ten. I walked more quickly. I was going to smash right into that barrier and then I'd be in trouble – leaning forward slightly, I broke into a heavy run – the barrier was coming nearer and nearer – I wouldn't be able to stop – I was a foot away – I closed my eyes ready for the crash –

It didn't come... I kept on running... I opened my eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. I looked behind me and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, we had done it. I found Harry and started walking with him.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between our legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform with me walking beside him in search of an empty seat. We passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again." "Oh, Neville," we heard the old woman sigh. A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on." The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

We pressed on through the crowd until we found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Harry put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end. I tried to help but I was not very strong.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins we'd followed through the barrier. "Yes, please," Harry panted. "Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. "Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, thanks for helping my brother." I said. "What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar. "Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you both" "They are," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry and I. "What?" Harry and I chorused confused."Harry and Rose Potter," chorused the twins. "Oh, them," said Harry. "I mean, yes, we are." "Sorry, he means we are definitely them." I said.

The two boys gawked at us, and I felt my cheeks beginning to turn pink. Then, to my relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door. "Fred? George? Are you there?" "Coming, Mom." With a last look at Harry and me, the twins hopped off the train. I sat down opposite to Harry, next to the window where, half hidden, I could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose." The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose. "Mom – geroff" He wriggled free. "Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins. "Shut up," said Ron. "Where's Percy?" said their mother. "He's coming now." The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and I noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it. "Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front; the prefects have got two compartments to themselves –"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea." "Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once –" "Or twice –" "A minute –" "All summer –" "Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect."How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins. "Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins. "Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet or –"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet." "Great idea though, thanks, Mom." "It's not funny. And look after Ron." "Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us." "Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it. "Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" I leaned back quickly so they couldn't see me looking. "You know that black-haired boy and blonde-haired girl who were near us in the station? Know who they are?" "Who?" "Harry and Rose Potter!" I heard the little girl's voice. "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see them, Mom, eh please..." "You've already seen them, Ginny, and the poor little boy and girl aren't something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?" "Asked them. Saw Harry's scar. It's really there - like lightning." "Poor dears - no wonder they were alone, I wondered. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?" Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school." "All right, keep your hair on." A whistle sounded."Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry. "Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." "We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." "George!" "Only joking, Mom." The train began to move. I saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, and then she fell back and waved.

I watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. I felt a great leap of excitement. I didn't know what I was going to but it had to be better than what I was leaving behind. The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat beside Harry. "Everywhere else is full." Harry and I shook our heads and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and me and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. I saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron." The twins were back. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." "Right," mumbled Ron. "Harry, Rose," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then. "Bye," said Harry, Ron and I. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. "Are you really Harry and Rose Potter?" Ron blurted out. Harry and I nodded. "Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got – you know..." He pointed at Harry's forehead and my right arm. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar and I twisted my arm to show the same lightning bolt scar. Ron stared. "So that's where You-Know-Who" "Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it." "Me either" I said.

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly. "Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else." "Same here, after all we were only fifteen months old when he attacked us." I said. "Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry and me for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again. "Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry. "Er – Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." "That's cool" I said not really all that interested. "So you must know loads of magic already." "I heard you both went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?" "Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

That sucks but he will just have to try harder. Everyone is different. He has to be good at something. Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. Eww. I hate rats with a passion. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff – I mean, I got Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

I didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, we'd never had any money in our lives until a month ago, and we told Ron so, all about Harry having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up. "... and until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about being a wizard and witch or about our parents or Voldemort" Ron gasped. "What?" said Harry. "You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people –" "It's just a name see, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort" I said. Ron gasped again and turned pale.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet," he added. "I bet I'm the worst in the class." "No you won't be Harry" I said. "You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While we had been talking, the train had carried us out of London. Now we were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. "Hey, Harry." "Yes" he answered. "I'm going to look for a friend I met in Diagon Alley. Is it okay if I leave Paddy here?" I asked. "Sure, see you in a bit" he said. "Yeah, see you later. Bye Ron, Harry" "Bye" they said.

I exited the compartment and started down the hall. I looked in each compartment trying to find Damon. I finally found him towards the back of the train along with two girls and one other boy. I knocked on the door. "Come in" a feminine voice called. I stepped in to the compartment. "We have not seen a toad" said the dark haired girl. "What?" I said with a questioning tone. Damon looked up from his book and saw me. He put his book beside him and stood up.

"Rosie" he said and hugged me. "Damon" I said back. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I told you I'd find you on the train" I said. "Oh yeah" he said. "Mate", the boy said interrupting us, "Mind introducing us?" he asked. "Oh yeah, Rosie this is Blaise Zambini, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass" he said. "I'm Rosemarie Potter, but you can just call me Rose or Rosie like this goof ball over her" I said elbowing Damon. "That hurts Rosie, right here" he said pointing to his heart. "I think you'll live" I said. Daphne and Tracey laughed. "You sure know how to handle him. I approve. I'm Daphne, you can just call me Daph" she said and shook my hand. "I'm Tracey, you can just call me Trace" she said and shook my hand. "I'm Blaise and you can just call me Blaise" he said smirking and shook my hand. "Nice to meet you" I said. "Come in, sit down" Damon said.

I sat down next to Daphne. "How about to get to know each other, we can go around the circle and say a few things about ourselves." I said. "Sure" they all agreed. "I'll start" I said. "My name is Rosemarie Lillian Potter, I have a brother named Harry James Potter, I was adopted by Lily Potter, James Potter is my biological father, I am pure blooded, I have a Golden Retriever puppy named Paddy, my favorite colors are pink, blue and emerald green, I love to sing, dance and take pictures and my biological mother's name is Evanna." I said.

"Wow, so you're adopted?" Daph asked. "Yup, but Lily and Evanna were both my mother's so it doesn't even matter, Daph you're next" I said. "Okay, My name is Daphne Alina Greengrass, I have a sister named Astoria Ariana Greengrass, my parents names are Ariana and Cygnus Greengrass, I am pure blooded, I have a purebred cat named Calina, my favourite colors are green, silver and purple, I love to play the piano, write and draw, and I hate spiders."

"Okay I'll go next" said Trace. "My name is Tracey Leonora Davis, I am an only child, my parents names are Christian and Michelle Davis, I am a half-blood, I have a tawny owl named Maia, my favourite colors are green, pale blue and red, I love the beach, to swim and to dance and I hate worms." "Okay I'm next" said Blaise. "My name is Blaise Antonio Zambini, I have had six stepfathers, my father's name was Antonio Zambini, my mother's name is Gianna Zambini, I am pure blooded, I have a night owl named Shadow, my favorite colors are silver and green, I love to read, play Quidditch and swim, and I am Italian."

"Okay, I'll go now. My name is Damon Orion Black. My parent's names were Regulas and Alina Black. My mother was a Greengrass so Daph is my cousin. I am pure blooded, I have an eagle owl named Hermes, my favorite colors are black, blue, green and silver, I love to run, play Quidditch and swim and I hate rats." Damon finished, just in time as there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

I walked towards the door and got a pack of Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a couple Chocolate Frogs, 1 Cauldron Cake and 1 Licorice Wand. I paid the woman four silver sickles and 3 bronze Knuts. Daphne and Tracey got the same as me and Damon and Blaise got a bit of everything.

For a while we sat and ate. While we ate we discussed Hogwarts. "What house do you want to get into?" I asked. "Slytherin or Ravenclaw" replied Daphne and Tracey. Damon and Blaise simply said "Slytherin." "I want to get into Gryffindor, Slytherin or Ravenclaw" I said. I ate one of my chocolate frogs and saw I got Agrippa. By the end I also got Merlin, Morgana, Ptolemy, Circe and Dumbledore. We had fun eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. I got Broccoli, sprout, apple, raspberry, strawberry, bubblegum, cotton candy, cherry, cotton, sunshine, grass, chocolate and peach. I would not try a gray one or a puke green one. Damon nibbled on the gray one which turned out to be pepper and no one would touch the puke green one. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

"Oh I can't wait to get to Hogwarts. We'll get to learn all sorts of spells. I read through all my school books just to get a sense of the classes, what about you guys?" "I've read through them" Daph and Trace said. "I've not looked at them" Damon and Blaise said. "We had better put our robes on. I expect we'll be there soon" I said as I looked out the window. It was getting dark. I could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. "Boys get out" I said. "But, but –" "Out" I demanded pointing at the door. They reluctantly got out. I pulled my trunk from my pocket and un-shrunk it. Tracey, Daphne and I quickly stripped out of our normal clothes and put on the grey pleated skirt, white short sleeve blouse, knee high white socks, a plain black tie, black shoes and a plain black robe. Once we were sorted out house colors would appear on our clothing.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." My stomach lurched with nerves as the boys came back in full uniform. With one last look at the compartment we joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. I shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! "I have to go find my brother" "okay" they whispered. I quickly found Harry and walked with him "All right there, Harry, Rose?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that I thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. The boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice. "Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here." There was a loud "Oooooh!" The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. I quickly snapped a picture with my camera and then shrunk it and put it away.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and I were followed into our boat by a girl with bushy brown hair. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried a round faced boy blissfully, holding out his hands. Then we clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door. "Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**A/N Please Read! PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHICH HOUSE ROSE SHOULD GO INTO. THANKS, DIANA.**


	8. Year 1: The Sorting Hat

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter. Harry potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I only own Rosemarie Potter and Damon Black. There are going to be minor differences but it is mostly canon. This will start in the philosopher's stone and will go through all seven movies/books. This will be an Oc/Oc pairing and other canon pairings. Please review. You can criticize but please no extreme criticism. Please review and tell me which house you would like Rose to be in.**

**Rose P.O.V**

_Chapter 7: The Sorting Hat_

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and my first thought was that this was not someone to cross. This is why I absolutely have to annoy her. I must live up to my father's legacy as a marauder. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to my right -the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed us into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the round face boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Beside me Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. I swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

My heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But I didn't know much magic yet – what on earth would I have to do? I hadn't expected something like this the moment we arrived. I looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except the bushy haired girl, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. I tuned her out and tried to calm down. I'd never been more nervous, never, not even when I'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that I'd somehow I healed automatically from an injury. I kept my eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead me before the whole school.

Then something happened that made me gasp in surprise – several people behind me screamed. "What the –?" I gasped. So did the people around me. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –" "My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered. "New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." "Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though my legs had turned to lead, I got into line behind Damon, with Blaise behind me, and we walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

I had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us up here, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, I looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I remember reading about it in Hogwarts A History.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. I quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. I wouldn't have either.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, I thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat; I stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuff's are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. "Thank Merlin, all we have to do is try on a hat" Damon whispered to me. I smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but I did wish we could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; I didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for me and probably most of the students. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!" A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause – "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her. "Black, Damon" "Good luck" I whispered to him. He calmly walked up to the hat and put it on. "SLYTHERIN!" The table on the far right clapped.

"Bones, Susan!" "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. "Boot, Terry!" "RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought they looked like an unhappy lot. I was starting to feel definitely sick now. I remembered being picked for teams during gym at my old school. I had always been last to be chosen, not because I was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked me. "Davis, Tracey." "SLYTHERIN." "Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, I noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," a sandy-haired boy, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. "Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. "Greengrass, Daphne." "SLYTHERIN."

A horrible thought struck me, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if I wasn't chosen at all? What if I just sat there with the hat over my eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off my head and said there had obviously been a mistake and I'd better get back on the train? When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it back. "MacDougal, Morag." "RAVENCLAW!"

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last – "Potter, Rosemarie!" As I stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. "Potter, did she say?" "The Rose Potter?" The last thing I saw before the hat dropped over my eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at me. Next second I was looking at the black inside of the hat. I waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in my ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. A vast amount of bravery. A brilliant mind. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes – a nice thirst to prove yourself and there's cunning, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?" I gripped the edges of the stool and thought, put me where I am supposed to go, I thought. "Hmm, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

I heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. I took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. I was so relieved to have been chosen; I hardly noticed that I was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook my hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" I sat down beside the bushy haired girl, Hermione. "Potter, Harry" I looked towards the sorting hat as Harry got on the stool. The whispering began again. Harry was on the stool for a while. It looked like he was arguing with the hat. Finally, the hat called "GRYFFINDOR."

I could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest me sat Hagrid, who caught my eye and gave me the thumbs up. I grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. I recognized him at once from the card I'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. I spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined me at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted. Finally, it was Blaise's turn. He walked up to the hat and a second later it shouted "SLYTHERIN." Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

I looked down at my empty gold plate. I had only just realized how hungry I was. The variety of candy seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at us, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. I didn't know whether to laugh or not. "Is he – a bit mad?" Harry and I asked Percy uncertainly. "Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Rose, Harry?"

My mouth fell open. The dishes in front of me were now piled with food. I had never seen so many things I liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved me, but I'd never been allowed to eat as much as I liked. Dudley had always taken anything that I really wanted, even if it made him sick. I piled my plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. "That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching me cut up my steak,

"Can't you –?" I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower." "I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!" "I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted. "Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. That was so gross I thought.

Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry and I looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry and I were pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. "How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest. "I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding – "As I helped myself to a chocolate éclair, the talk turned to our families. "I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." The others laughed. That was not very funny. I couldn't imagine going through that shock. "What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"I'm pureblood but Harry is a half-blood." I said. "How is that possible?" asked Seamus. "I was adopted by Lily Potter but James Potter is still my Dad, so we have different mothers." I said. "Ohh" they all said. On my other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing – ").

Beside me Harry looked up at the High Table again. It happened very suddenly a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on my wrist. "Ouch!" Harry and I chorused with a hand clapped on our scars. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." we said. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Percy from beside me.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." I watched Snape for a while but Snape never looked up. At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch." "And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed from beside me, but he was one of the few who did, I didn't dare laugh. He was probably somewhat serious. "He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy. "Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least." It's not all about the prefects. Maybe it was dangerous for the prefects to know. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which raised high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. "Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

We followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. My legs were like lead again, but only because I was so tired and full of food. I was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led us through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. We climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging our feet, and I was just wondering how much farther we had to go when we came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of us, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. "Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves – show yourself" A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. "Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at us. We all ducked. "Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. We heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. "You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are." At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We all scrambled through it – Neville needed a leg up – and found ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase – we were obviously in one of the towers – we found our beds at last: six four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, we pulled on our pajamas and fell into bed.

"Oh, I can't wait for tomorrow!" Hermione muttered to me through the hangings. "I wonder what classes we'll have." I was going to ask Hermione what class she was looking forward to the most, but I fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps I had eaten a bit too much, because I had a very strange dream. I was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to me, telling me I must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was my destiny. I told the turban I didn't want to transfer to Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; I tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully – and there was Malfoy, laughing at me as I struggled with it -then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold – there was a burst of green light, a scream and I woke, sweating and shaking. I rolled over and fell asleep again, and when I woke next day, I didn't remember the dream at all.

**A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope you liked the chapter. Thanks, Diana.**


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